


The Way It Was

by reaverattack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, Embarrassment, Everything Hurts, Gen, Men of Letters Bunker, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3253568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaverattack/pseuds/reaverattack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After you attempt to kill yourself, you find that the brothers have “suicide-proofed” the bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way It Was

Your head was pounding. It felt like the headache to end all headaches. And light and sound? Not your buddies. Pulling yourself up from your place in bed, you winced as a fierce throbbing attacked your skull. You all but stumbled into the bathroom, opening the cabinet, only to find that the Ibuprofen was gone. You cursed your luck, and set out to find a med kit or cabinet with pain medication. You wandered around for a bit, but it seemed like every possible location was mysteriously void of meds.

You made your way to the library and, no surprise, found Sam. Looking up from his work, he asked, “What’s up, Y/N?”

“Have you seen any Ibuprofen? I can’t find any anywhere.”

His eyes suddenly seemed clouded with worry. “Why?”

“I have a headache.”

Sam looked skeptically at you, and you felt a wave of shame wash over you. He didn’t believe you.

You had tried to kill yourself early last week, and had spent the whole rest of the week hidden away in your room, too embarrassed to face the brothers. That hadn’t stopped them from stopping in, though. They refused to leave you alone for the first three days, finally giving you your space when they realized you wanted to be alone.

Despite the shame you felt toward yourself and the slight sting of betrayal you felt from Sam, no matter how warranted it was, you could understand where he was coming from. The first time you leave your room after a suicide attempt was to look for pills. You were suddenly very aware of how suspicious that looked.

“I really do have a headache, Sam. Do you know where the medication is?” 

“Yeah Y/N,” he said, standing up. “Follow me.” Sam led you through the bunker and into his bedroom. He crouched beside his nightstand and you saw that he had put a combination padlock on the top drawer. Carefully, blocking it from your view, he entered the numbers and opened the drawer. You peeked around him and saw that the drawer held at least four bottles of pain medication.

You felt hot tears, from a mixture of embarrassment and distress, sting behind your eyes. You quickly blinked them away.

“One or two?” Sam asked.

“What?”

“One pill or two?”

“Oh. Two, please.”

Sam nodded stiffly, still looking at the drawer full of bottles, and you saw his jaw clench. He put two pills in his hand and relocked the drawer. He turned to face you, and you held out your hand, expecting him to give you the pills. When he instead ignored your outstretched arm and looked around the room, you self-consciously lowered it. He crossed to his dresser and grabbed an unopened water bottle, before returning to you and offering you both the water bottle and the pills.

You quietly thanked him and turned to leave before he stopped you.

“Y/N?”

You gave him a questioning look. 

“Can I see you take those, please?” Oh. He didn’t trust you not to stash them somewhere. 

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and swallowed the pain pills. You even opened your mouth and lifted your tongue to show him that you really had swallowed them. You weren’t sure if he was going to ask you to do that, but you couldn’t bear to hear him say those words if he was. 

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You didn’t see his gentle, apologetic smile, as your vision was fixed firmly on the floor.

~~~~~

The day after your headache, you sat with Sam at the table as Dean placed plastic bags with your dinner on the surface. 

Dean went to sit down before you stopped him. “Can you grab some silverware?”

You heard clinking as he fished for utensils in the unorganized drawer. He sat down at the table, and instead of tossing the silverware in a haphazard pile as usual, he handed them out to each person individually. 

You frowned when you realized that Sam and Dean each had a fork, spoon, and steak knife, while you were given just a fork and spoon. You started eating quietly, avoiding the brothers’ attempts to include you in conversation. You were too embarrassed by the fact that they didn’t even trust you with a knife at the table. It wasn’t like you were going to try anything at the dinner table, even if you still wanted to hurt yourself.

You didn’t realize your face was red from shame and the attempt not to cry until Dean called you out on it.

“You ok there, Y/N?”

“Yeah. Fine. I’m just tired. I’m going to go to bed.”

The boys nodded and as you walked down the hall, you could hear them whispering behind you.

~~~~~

Two days after that, you were reading in your room, when you heard a knock at the door. 

“Hey, Y/N? Can I come in?”

“Sure,” you called.

Dean entered and sat down on the edge of your bed. 

“Sam and I found a case a couple hours out. We’ll be gone all day, but Cas will come and stay with you. If you want us to stay, though, we can call some buddies to take the case. Your call, Y/N.”

You appreciated the offer, but, honestly, you’d prefer that the brothers left. They’d been constantly watching you out of the corners of their eyes, as if you were a wild animal that my attack at any moment. You thought that maybe Castiel would be more understanding, that he would treat you like a regular person.

You were wrong. 

He was even worse than the Winchesters. They would watch you carefully, censor their words, and smile at you more, but they acted like everything was fine, like they weren’t acting any different around you. And while that was horrible enough, it wasn’t nearly as draining as what Castiel did. He followed you around, never letting you leave his sight. He wouldn’t let you watch anything remotely sad on TV, and even went so far as to ask you how you felt.

How did feel? Horrible. Dehumanized. Untrusted. Unloved. Ashamed. Embarrassed. You sometimes wished you had succeeded in killing yourself, just so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of what you done, and the relationships you had ruined.

You told him you were fine.

~~~~~

A few days after that, you heard a noise in the bunker. It was late, almost four in the morning, and everyone else was asleep. You knew that the bunker was supposed to be monster-proof, but you certainly weren’t going to take that on faith alone. You heard the noise again, and grabbed a bottle of holy water, a canister of salt, and a silver dagger from under your mattress. You put the salt and water in the large front pocket of your hoodie, and held the dagger carefully before proceeding out of your room. You followed the source of the noise - a shuffling sound - to its source in the library. You peeked around the corner and let out an audible sigh of relief when you saw Dean sorting through some papers.

“You scared me,” you said. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Yeah,” he said, still going through some papers. “I was, but then…” He trailed off and stiffened. “Where did you get that?” he asked, and gestured to your knife.

“It’s mine.” You gripped the knife tighter, not wanting him to take that, too. You understood his apprehension, you really did, but you couldn’t bear the thought of the boys restricting you even more.

He walked towards you, hands up, in an attempt to allay any worries you might have. It just made you angrier. You didn’t want gentle, careful Dean. You wanted things back the way they were. You wanted him to make fun of you and obnoxiously flirt and just be the way he used to be with you.

“Can you give me the knife, Y/N?” he asked, too calmly.

“No, Dean. It’s mine. I need it. It’s silver.”

He moved to take it from you and you shrieked and jumped out of his reach. “DON’T!”

Your yell must have wakened Sam, as his door flew open and he barrelled into the library, gun in hand. He took in the scenario and put down his weapon. He turned to Dean and asked, “Is she trying to…?” He let the question go unfinished but you and Dean both knew what he was asking.

“I dunno, she just came in with it,” Dean answered.

“Because I thought there was someone in here!” you yelled.

Sam nodded, trying to act like he was on your side despite having an agenda of his own. “Well, now you know it’s just Dean, so can you put down the knife, Y/N? You’re not supposed to have that.”

You felt yourself begin to cry. “It’s mine! It’s silver, and I need it in case something happens! You hid all the dinner knives and took my belts! And I have to get permission to take medicine and it’s really embarrassing! And I’m sorry! I am! You don’t trust me anymore and I get it, but, please, please, I just want things to go back to normal! I want to watch sad movies without a babysitter and I want you both to joke around and smile again. I just want you to treat me like a normal person again. I-”

“Hey,” Dean gently interrupted. “It’s ok, kiddo. We didn’t know you felt like this.”

You nodded, now looking intently at the floor.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe,” Sam added. “We don’t want to lose, Y/N, not ever.”

“But I think we can both admit that we went a bit too far,” Dean said. “We’re sorry.”

Sam nodded his agreement. “Please talk to us when you feel this bad, Y/N. You are so important to us. We’ll make some changes. It’s going to be better.”

You nodded. You didn’t know if it would go back to the way it was, but you believed that they would do everything in their power to make it okay again.


End file.
